Waga Itonami
by Quack says the T-shape
Summary: My life. My work. Out in the cold darkness of the nightwatch, rain beating down and rinsing into his slowly paling skin, Shikamaru wondered why in hell he’d ever become a shinobi. Oneshot, Shikamaru musing.


**Waga Itonami**

Out in the cold darkness of the night-watch, rain beating down and rinsing into his slowly paling skin, Shikamaru wondered why in hell he'd ever become a shinobi.

He often found himself wondering this, especially in times like these, where he was freezing his arse off because of the extremely unlikely chance enemy nin decided to attack. Which, of course, they hadn't done so far, and most likely wouldn't for the rest of the night.

Shikamaru absentmindedly shuffled against the wall, his back leaning on the hard surface and his shoulders slumping in sleepiness. Tired, he noted. He was tired. And bored to boot. The graveyard shift left much to be desired.

And so, the Nara teen returned to his earlier thought: _why in hell had he become a shinobi?_

He'd like to say it was because as a kid, he'd really wanted to be a shinobi. Only he hadn't. It was just… it was in his blood. His father had been a shinobi; his father's parents had been shinobis; and their parents and their parents and so on and so forth. It was inevitable he'd follow on in tradition, and so would the generations after him. If there were generations after him, he couldn't help but think, the teen's misogynistic side sneaking in a quick thought. Even after hitting puberty, he still didn't _like_ women, and the idea of breeding with one was therefore not too pleasing.

However, if he did manage to get past this long enough to have children, he suspected they would end up fighting as shinobis too. It was in their blood, and as Neji would say, you can't fight destiny.

At least at chuunin level, Shikamaru could find the time a little more exciting. Gone were the days of de-rubbishing the Konoha streets, and before him lay mass amounts of _proper_ missions. Of being a team leader. Of excitement and thrill and… and…

Who was he kidding? The boy didn't actually think that. Maybe the missions weren't boring, but only because they were so dangerous they didn't leave time for boredom. As a genin, he may have had to suffer numerous bogus missions, but at least on these bogus missions the most hurt he'd end up was worth a few days in the hospital, if that. But as a chuunin, the opponent's attacks could always be fatal. Many a time Shikamaru had returned form a mission, drenched in blood, an unconscious team mate slumped onto his back, and he hadn't even completed the damn assignment. He'd been in hospital more times than he could count; he'd seen team mates - _friends_ - lying on a hospital bed for weeks, the only thing keeping them alive being the mechanical lump beside them; he'd even lost a comrade, although only once. And he only just managed to get through that because of the fact that he hadn't really known her, she'd just been another Konoha shinobi. Another _dead_ shinobi, deserving more than just a plaque, even if that was all she got. Shikamaru had been through all of this, and he was only fourteen.

_He was only fourteen._

He supposed, really, that if people like him didn't join the academy, the world would be a lot less safe. Not as many people as you'd think could suffer the shinobi lifestyle: up at dawn but not back down again until much past dusk. The gruelling hours weren't helped by rationed food and a lack of hygiene, strenuous exercise and seemingly impossible tasked, held together only by an incessant amount of training. Putting your life on the line to fight for something you may not even believe in. and then, if you do believe in it, is your life still worth that much? Is everything you ever worked to gain worth throwing away in a moment of stupidity, merely because you _believed_ in something?

Shikamaru doubted it. That wouldn't stop him putting his life on the line, though. And, past all of this, past all the horrifically dreadful things that make up a shinobi's life, there lies the worst thing of them all. The pure _responsibility_.

As a shinobi, as a chuunin, as a team leader, it's Shikamaru's job to protect his friends, to protect his comrades, to protect his village. But then… who was protecting him?

And when that girl, that poor, defenceless, barely even genin level twelve year old girl lay dead on the floor, it immediately rested itself on Shikamaru's shoulders. He would have carried her body back, but that's not what he was trained to do. Forget about life, missions come first, right? So he burned the corpse and paused for a second but only that, for then he had to head back into the danger, retrieve the scroll, and then return to Konoha. He had to fill out some forms about the mission, and then they were placed within a folder, and the girl became a few memories and some paperwork. Oh yes, and a rusting plaque between a million other rusting plaques, practically unnoticed to those who didn't realise it was there.

Shikamaru found himself visiting it, occasionally, as if that made up for not being there to protect her. Once the girl's parents were there too. They thanked Shikamaru for paying his respects, and for being with the girl when she passed away. _Thanked him_. It was the worst day of his life, and he was being thanked for going through it.

The chuunin didn't have the heart to tell them he hadn't been with the girl when she'd died. She'd left the world alone, even after coming into it surrounded by love.

The life of a shinobi; if you can call it a life at all, really. Children growing up so that they can briefly sparkle in battle and then burn out just like everybody else. The forests are rotting with the smell of their memories. This life, it was demanding, it was painful, it was _every single day_.

Shikamaru looked up suddenly, a flicker in the distance catching his eye. He could see something approaching… people… enemies…?

Springing into action, a sudden burst of adrenaline coursing through his veins, Shikamaru headed off into the battlefield. Who knew if he would make it back out alive?

And it was at that moment that Shikamaru remember why he'd become a shinobi.

Because it was what he had to do.

* * *

**The title should roughly translate to 'My Life' or 'My Work'. I liked the way that it could mean 'work' or 'life', because that's what a shinobi is. And I apologise if the Japanese is wrong, tell me if it is. **

**But oh my God, a serious one-shot? From Quack says the T-shape? This is like the first time this has ever happened! Sorry humour, take a momentary back seat :P**

**I hope you liked it. I love Shikamaru. He's one of my favourite characters, and so I wanted to play around with him a bit. So I was bored and came up with this. I liked writing it, so I hope you liked reading it. Please remember to drop a review, and thanks!**


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